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Clueless

February 8, 2017

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Vintage Burberry blazer
H&M blouse
& Other Stories dress
Kate Spade shoes
Topshop socks
Ghurka tote
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Back in town and on a very addictive Rio de Janeiro high. A bit underwhelmed with NYC at the moment after visiting a city so full of sun and life. I was only away for less than a week . . . but still. I think it’s the weather here. And maybe the restless flight I had. I just feel like I’m missing a few things, some that I know exactly what they or, others I can’t quite touch upon exactly, but I know that they exist somewhere. It’s just a restless sort of feeling I guess you can say. When one gets used to a life of dashing around, getting back home can sometimes feel a bit weird. Like home has been reversed. Like maybe being in someplace new feels more like home. But I think that will change soon. It has to. This upcoming week is going to require a hell of a lot of energy, and I have a long way to go to gather it all up in one big ball. I put together my fashion week schedule as soon as I got home from Rio. I slapped it together in a zombie like nature at 8am, running off the tiny cup of coffee that I consumed on the airplane before landing. How can it always be like this? The next thing. The next thing. The next thing. As soon as I catch a break, the next thing seems to come too soon. I should be lucky, most people would say. Ugh, I know that I am, and I would never take anything for granted. But sometimes I just want to catch my breathe a little bit more at times. Sit down and read a book fully. Write an essay without so much stop and go along the way. Print out those photos I took years back in black and white and take my watercolors to them because I’ve been talking about it for a year now, and still haven’t gotten one inch closer to doing it. Is there something wrong me? Obviously not, of course! But sometimes I just feel like I can’t catch up with myself . . . myself out of all things. A strange feeling indeed. I cherished my time in Brazil with my man (more of that coming to the blog very soon hopefully), and I just wished I could hold onto that feeling a little longer. It’s crazy to think how easily sunshine and the touch of someone you care about can make you think of nothing else in this world. Lost in the best sort of way. It was only 6 days, but it sure felt like something longer. 

So here I am, back in NYC, in the midst of pre-NYFW meetings and outfit pulls and schedule making and intense socializing, feeling a teeny tiny bit clueless yet knowing the exact movements and things to say to be productive. Clueless not in the worst sort of way; just in a frazzled sort of way. In a “I wish time could stop” sort of way so I could spread my love evenly amongst all of my grounds. Wouldn’t that be the life? I am also Clueless because of the checkered blazer that reminds me so much of Cher Horowitz, whom I drew my outfit inspiration from while in the back of the car driving down the streets of Venice as we passed by this salmon pink apartment. Salmon pink is my favorite color. Funny how a thing like a color can lift a spirit in the most effortless of ways. It reminds me to keep myself in check. To expect the best out of even the most simple of things. When it gets down to it, that is all we ever really need. And it feels so good to be inspired. Don’t ever forget what it feels like when it happens. Already, I’m feeling a little less clueless and ready to get back in the game. Sun and sand from Rio still lingering in the back of my mind and down in the bottom of my bags, but there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. 

More blazers I love:

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Girl on a Rainy Day

January 17, 2017


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H&M wool sweater
Vintage dress (worn underneath)
Vintage leather belt
Hat Attack cap
Ouigal boots
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I love any reason that brings me home. Even when I’m tired to the bone, I can’t help but light up knowing that I have a plane ride to catch back to my sunny Southern California. Well, the days have been more gloomy and rainy than anything else lately, but I don’t mind. Either way, I slip into a special routine here; one that involves much more reading and writing and watching of films. The hours spread out farther and farther apart from each other so that self reflection and building up of the imagination can’t help but be inevitable. I’m happy during simple, easy going days like these. It’s like the year I turned 16, and I dedicated my days to the reading of books. I’d spend hours lying in the hammock in the backyard of our home, with no other care in the world except to escape reality for a little while into the whirlwind plot of the novel resting against my legs.

In this moment, I wish that I could freeze in time those rainy, lazy days that I experienced during my holiday break last month. I wish I could let them linger until I get antsy to get back to regular programming again. California feels different went it rains and you start to forget what tone of blue that the sky usually is. The palm trees look cleaner and almost sparkling against the grey backdrop. Out of place in an interesting way that makes you look twice. Paces slow down to something that can be described as beautifully melancholy, and everyone prefers to take on the life of a homebody. California on a rainy day makes me nostalgic. And it makes me more emotional, that’s for sure. Over stupid little things even. Missing my boyfriend seems a bit more tough sometimes. Figuring out a plan for my life as I near 30, a bit too intimidating. All these thoughts and feelings, spilling over inside of me, like the rain drops that gather in hidden nooks. It seems there’s more and more reasons to cry about things, both happy or sad. And being the extroverted introvert that I am, I am constantly being pulled between spilling my heart out to everyone I call a best friend and keeping all my secrets to myself . . . that is, until I am able to fully explain my thoughts out in words. Pen to paper (or fingertips to computer screen) is how I’ve always felt that I expressed myself the best. But when I was younger, I always wished the opposite . .  that I could be the one kid in class who had the nerve to be the first to raise her hand in class and answer all the questions. Instead, I preferred to keep all my answers in a notebook for my teacher to read later. But as I get older, I take pride in the fact that I can write. Not that I’m really any that great at it. If I was, maybe I would have written a novel or two by now. No, I take pride in embracing what comes most natural to me. To stand up for it and not keep it hidden, no matter what the judgment of others is. 

Thank you rainy California days for giving me the comforts of home, and slowing me down so I can keep a rhythm with my words in tune with the sound of the raindrops that are so unexpected out of your skies. You are keeping this girl in her vintage dress and nubby sweater as sane as one can be in the midst of a January that seems to be slipping away far too fast. 

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Stop Dragon My Heart Around

January 6, 2017

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Suburban Riot jacket
525 America
 sweater
Kenzo pants
Vintage purse
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“Stop Dragon My Heart Around.” True that. As one who is approaching her 30’s (cringe!!!), this creative twist on a saying hits home hard. I’m haven’t gotten my dirty thirty juuuust yet, but I can say that I have in fact survived my 20’s. And let me tell you, that ride through one’s twenties (I’m sure many of you have already found this out), is far from smooth sailing. Being in your twenties is supposed to be a whole lot of your heart being dragged around, and my jacket is fully putting it out there that I no longer want or need those experiences. The best thing about maturing as an adult, is finding where to cut the crap. Getting rid of the insignificant fat (and that goes for the diet, too). Saying bye bye to the stuff that always looked down on you when you already felt small. 

Those bumps. Those bad boyfriends. The back stabbing friends. The frustrating bosses and the horrifying co-workers born to make your life feel below miserable. The apartment that never stops leaking. And the roommate who never gives you space. The endless feeling of being lost and insignificant and unrooted and just never, ever good enough. We can officially throw these things and these emotions all into the armful of things that come with the twenties territory. But these things. These people. Those unconfident thoughts that eat away at us. They all take a back bone to really, truly be pushed away. And that’s what our twenties are for. For feeling hurt. For feeling screwed. For feeling like the last kid chosen at a stupid game of ball. And then getting back up again knowing that we don’t need to take any of that anymore, as long as we believe in that and stand for that. Yes, most likely the same falls can and will be repeated more than once, twice, three times, but that’s okay. We’re cushiony. We bounce back. The scabs look a bit icky, but they just make us tougher. And what I finally realized, as I approached my later twenties . . . the one thing that got me so exhausted and tired . . . was the fact that all I wanted was to stop being dragged around. By people who thought they knew me but actually didn’t. By people who sought to judge too quick. By people who don’t understand or try to understand how a two-sided friendship works. By people who never tried to really dig beneath the surface. By men who kept me hanging and diminished my self worth. By people and things that felt empty. By my own thoughts that caused me to second guessed myself. Those moments are always the worst. Being one’s own enemy can at times be the easiest thing to do as a twenty year old. That I see very clear right now. And it took time to learn to do exactly the opposite. 

The best thing that I realized in my late twenties, was that it is impossible to make everybody happy. And that no one else can determine your happiness. And that when I stopped trying to only please others all the time, I felt a weight off my shoulder. I felt less dragged around. Instead, I felt more confident and aware. And my heart felt safer and smarter, and in need of being surrounded by those who were genuine. Here’s to 2017. And here’s to getting older. Here’s to no longer being dragged (dragonned) around. And here’s to finally just starting to get the hang of this thing called life. 

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The Closest I’ll Get To Hawaii Right Now

December 26, 2016

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Pale Swimwear suit
Shona Joy Swim cover up
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A few more days lie ahead of us before the new year arrives. A whole week of nothing pressing on my to-do list. I can edit photos all week in my pajamas, and no one will ever need to know. Netflix shows are binge washed, and getting ahead of myself with work is put on the back burner. Little pangs inside of me wish I came up with the idea earlier of heading to Mexico or Hawaii for this week with my family. But then I realize how good it feels to not have an itinerary. That maybe the ultimate destination is right here, on this couch that I’m sitting on, my mom cooking pancakes in the background, and the television playing George  Michael song while I contemplate the moment for what it is. A moment that needs no changing. It can take a lot of guts to be content with your surroundings. To realize that sometimes you don’t need the extra trimmings, the extra space, the comforts that we rely too much on. That something simple is everything you needed all along. That editing and looking at these pictures from Miami from a few weeks ago is the closest thing I’ll be getting to a Mexico or Hawaii vacation this month, and be totally okay with that fact. 

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